(A/N): Hey, yet another one shot, this one set after 6x06. I'm not sure what will happen when he gets Red John, but I think a Patrick Jane without Teresa Lisbon (and the team, but mainly Lisbon), would not be a happy Patrick Jane.

Don't own the Mentalist.

HeavenSkye x

Someday.

Hours after the explosion, Lisbon sat in her office, curled up on the couch, eyes firmly closed.

"You have no idea how much you mean to me."

Then a hug, a damn hug. A tear slid down Lisbon's face. Why, why did she have to love him so much? She hated it. She'd thought- no, she'd hoped that Jane would finally admit something, anything, without taking it back an hour later, but instead, he'd used her feelings against her, giving her a tiny spark of hope, only for that spark to be doused in water as he drove off, with her phone. Another tear joined the first one in its slow path down her cheek. When would she stop being a mark to him? Would she ever stop being a mark to him?

She loved him so much, and it was killing her. Each time she'd gone to tell him, he'd interrupted and then proceeded to distract her. Why couldn't he love her back? She just wanted a little. Just something to give her something to hope over again.

She'd actually meant what she'd said to Jane about Red John. He'd thought she was lying, but she wasn't. She had nothing left, no hope, no effort. If he wanted to kill Red John, then he could. What was the point in trying to get him to stop anymore? She'd given up. It wasn't something she did easily, but in this case, there didn't seem to be another way out. Jane would kill Red John, with or without her approval.

She moved her head slightly so she was more comfortable, then drifted off to sleep, tears now streaming down her face.

...

Jane walked into the office, an apology (fake) on his lips, only to stop short when the sight met his eyes. Lisbon, looking incredibly young, curled up on the white couch, tears tracks evident on her face. Sighing, he moved a chair over to face her, before sitting in it, and brushing her hair from her face tenderly. She loved him.

He already knew, had already tried to save her from that fate, but it seemed that it hadn't worked. He paused as his thumb brushed her eyelid of its own accord. Shaking his head, he quickly stood up. He had to get out of here, before she became an even bigger target.

He placed her phone onto her desk sadly. He also knew she thought the whole time they'd spent at the sunset was fake, that he'd used her feelings against her in a sick, twisted way. He hadn't. He'd meant it all, and had only just remembered to take her phone when they'd hugged, being utterly distracted by the feel of her slender body in his arms, her fingers clasping tightly to his back. It was all real, and he'd hated stranding her, but it had had to be done.

He walked back over to her sleeping body and pressed a short, sweet kiss to her forehead. She mumbled a little but didn't wake.

He wandered back over to the door, before turning to face her one more time. Someday, my love, he thought sadly, someday I'll prove it was all real. Someday, we'll be free to love, and someday, we'll be happy, together.